The woman seemed annoyed to see Brodie and Taylor sitting near Kim. She pointed to the opposite wall and said in a German accent, “Go there. Sit.”
Neither of them moved. The woman said something in German to the young man, who pointed his rifle at Brodie.
The woman repeated, “Go there. Sit.”
Brodie had never heard of a medic giving a shoot-to-kill order, but he had a feeling this was not the German Army here to save them.
They complied and returned to their places against the opposite wall and sat. Brodie watched as Nurse Ratched wheeled her cart to David Kim and began taking his vitals—pulse, blood pressure, temperature—and recording it with a pad and pen. Kim stared at her while she did all this, but she would not meet his eyes.
The medic put a stethoscope in her ears, then lifted Kim’s shirt and placed the diaphragm on his back. “Deep breath.”
Kim stared straight ahead and did not change his breathing.
The medic slapped him across the face. “Deep breath!”
Kim attempted a deep breath, then started coughing.
Brodie eyed the guard. The guy was tall and muscular, and held his rifle with his finger just outside the trigger guard. His eyes were fixed on Brodie and Taylor. Brodie noted that he wore no patches of any kind on his uniform—no flag, no insignia, no rank or nametag.
A secret army.
Brodie wondered if this soldier and the medic were past or present members of the German armed forces, and also members of NordFaust, turning their military training and equipment back against the German state they had sworn to defend. Brodie also wondered how many more people like them might be present in this facility, whatever and wherever it was.
The guard was about fifteen feet away from Brodie and Taylor. Brodie played out in his mind how it would go down if he charged the guy and slammed his head against the wall. He eyed the man’s rifle. He didn’t know the make by sight, but it was an assault rifle, with what looked like a thirty-round mag, and if it was military-issue, then it was also fully automatic.Attempting a rush would probably get Scott Brodie ventilated by fifteen rounds within a second. And that still left half the mag for Taylor.
And even if he beat the odds, whoever was on the other end of that surveillance camera would have armed men in this room within seconds. Brodie noted that they were not restrained, which said something about their captors’ confidence that their prisoners had no hope of getting out of this place.
The medic drew two vials of Kim’s blood via the butterfly needle, then placed the vials on her cart and wheeled it over to Brodie. She crouched and looked at his arm where the needle and tubing had been. “Why did you pull it out?”
“Why did you put it in?”
“No questions.” She retrieved her blood pressure monitor from the cart. “Give me your arm.”
Brodie stared at the woman and did not move.
“Arm!” she repeated.
“Say please.”
The medic said something in German and the guard aimed his rifle at Taylor.
The medic said to Brodie, “Your lives have very little value here. Are you going to let your friend die to avoid having your blood pressure taken?”
Brodie raised his arm, and the woman applied the cuff and began to take a reading. The guard lowered his rifle.
The medic said to Brodie, “Your pressure is elevated.”
“I wonder why.”
She looked at him as she took off the cuff. “Are you a Jew?”
“Excuse me?”
The woman looked at him. “I asked, are you a Jew? A half-Jew? You don’t look it, but some don’t.”
Brodie did not respond.
She kept staring at him. “We have already taken some blood, and a swab of your cheek, which is currently being sequenced. So if you lie, we will know. And they will shoot you for lying. They will also shoot you if you refuse to answer.”
